Prison Food
by Some Call Me Tim
Summary: What do crackfics and crime have in common? Probably nothing, except that they both stem from insanity. So go ahead and indulge in a little bit of crazy; this is a much healthier outlet, anyway. Series of silly one-shots that may as well be put together.
1. Troll Under the Bridge

**Found this prompt on Phoenix Wright Kink Meme, and this immediately came to me. Forgive the cracktasticness of it, but I just couldn't resist. Please do submit reviews! (Read it first though, otherwise there may be confusion.)**  
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Phoenix clung to the railing for dear life, trying to focus on making his legs move and cross the bridge rather than collapsing out from under him. He watched as Maya, juvenile as ever, skipped carelessly toward the Inner Temple. He felt the bridge shake, and clutched the railing tighter.

"Nick! Are you okay?" Maya called out. Phoenix answered by sinking to his knees and whimpering. _I'm an attorney, dammit, not a gymnast. Why should I have to deal with heights like this? _He wanted to be a man and make it across the bridge by himself, but he already heard Maya's reluctant returning footsteps, and decided that accepting her help would be the best option.

Suddenly, Phoenix heard laughter. It was a cackle of sorts; more out of mockery than toward anything genuinely funny. He carefully lifted his head in an effort to find the owner of the voice, wanting to give them a piece of his mind, but to no avail. The only occupants of the barren bridge were himself and Maya. He stopped and listened again. Was the laughter…coming from beneath him?

Before he could check, he felt Maya's oddly strong arms under his as she tried to help him up. He brushed her off and stumbled, pointing to the boards of the bridge.

"Maya, did you hear that? There's cackling coming from beneath this bridge!" She shot him a skeptical look and reached out to grab his arm again, but froze when a voice rang out.

"Ahaha, what a pussy," the voice taunted. It was shrill and unpleasant, invoking the urge to punch someone in both people above. Phoenix and Maya exchanged a look.

"Excuse me?" Phoenix responded. Maya was pulling at his sleeve, asking for a definition of the word just used, but he was _so _not in the mood for that conversation. Abruptly, a horrid face popped up from the side of the bridge. It definitely wasn't human, but viciously distorted, its mouth twisted in a jeering smile.

"You heard me, spikey-head," it called. "What kind of self-respecting guy needs a chick with a topknot to help him across a bridge? Pathetic."

As usual, Maya was the one to get angry. Her face reddened and she puffed out her cheeks. "It is not a topknot! You're just some creepy little monster…" The creature turned its attention over to her, doing a violent double take.

"Whoa, lady, what is with your face?" He squinted at her. "You look only half-baked, or something." Maya furiously flung her foot in the direction of its head, but it aptly dodged and commenced poking at her leg.

"Oh, flabby. How about trying a few calf raises, sugar?"

Phoenix could tell that, if prodded any further, Maya would end up kicking a hole through the bridge, so he mustered up all the courage he could and pushed her along to other side. "It's okay, Nicky!" the thing called after them. "You know she still wants it!" It then began doing a rather obscene hip thrust, laughed manically, and disappeared back to where it had first emerged.

"Nick, what was that!" Maya spat, stomping around in the snow. "And I didn't even understand half the things it said!"

Phoenix silently thanked God for that and began to explain what they had witnessed to the girl. "Maya, there are some terribly unpleasant things in this world, one of which being that." He pointed toward the bridge and inhaled deeply.

"That thing is called a troll, Maya. Its sole purpose is to make others angry by saying offensive things. They like to start arguments and leave a trail of peeved people behind. The only way to make them stop is to ignore them completely. Okay?" He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder and she nodded, perturbed.

"It's _not _a topknot, Nick."

"Yes, Maya, I know."

…

The temple dwellers had enjoyed a lovely meal and continued chatting idly as plates were being cleared. Phoenix decided to bring up the question he had been pondering and turned to Sister Bikini.

"So, Sister Bikini…what is with that troll living under Dusky Bridge?"

The priestess and Iris sighed simultaneously. The former half-heartedly began to explain.

"That troll made its home there a few years ago," she said as she offered Phoenix tea, which he politely declined. "I'll never understand how it could be satisfied staying here so alone, but I imagine that with all the people we have visiting, it's as happy as a clam, sitting there and insulting anyone in view."

"Oh yeah, and it called Nick a-" Maya began, but Phoenix cut her off. "Maya! Let's not repeat what was said, alright?" He glanced nervously at Iris, most concerned about her hearing. Of course, Larry saved the moment by sharing his own trouble with the troll.

"Yeah, I heard it when I was painting by the bridge. It called my sweater ugly, a-and my hat stupid!" His eyes began to well up as he recalled the humiliating affair.

"…Seriously, Larry? That's it?" _I guess that's all that was needed to get to him._

"It hurt me right here, Nick!" He pointed at his heart. "It hurts!" When he leaned over to Iris and asked her to kiss it better was when the merry party decided to call it a night, and they dispersed.

…

Phoenix was sincerely glad that Edgeworth had returned and for all the help he'd given him, but the crimson-clad gentleman began to get a little irksome.

"Edgeworth, let me come, too! If Maya-"

"I'm sorry, Wright. There are strict limits as to who can enter the Inner Temple at this point. It's not just a rescue operation; it's an investigation."

Phoenix gaped, but knew that he spoke sensibly. Iris gazed intently at the man and smiled, and she and Edgeworth made their way to the temple in hopes of unlocking it.

"I'm glad to see you listening to reason for once, Phoenix Wright." The lawyer groaned inaudibly. Not only was he practically useless at this point, but his friends had left him alone with a whip-happy filly. He smirked at his ingenious nickname for the woman but soon felt a sharp sting on his arm.

"Ow!"

"Stop looking so pleased with yourself for no reason, fool!"

"S-sorry! Just stop it!"

Meanwhile, the two slightly saner of the group had arrived at the bridge. "Right across there is the Inner Temple, Mr. Edgeworth," Iris said. The prosecutor nodded and led her across. They were stopped, however, by a most hideous chortle, and quickly looked around for the source.

"Oh, God, what a poofter!" the voice cried out, laughing harder still.

"I-I beg your pardon?" Edgeworth said, completely taken aback. The sickening face of the troll then appeared by their feet.

"You, the one in pink! Look at yourself! What's with the toilet paper hanging from your neck?" it snorted. Edgeworth scowled fiercely, and glared at the being with all his might.

"How dare you! This is a cravat of the very highest style and fashion sense; and this is a wine red-" Iris quickly grasped his arm and attempted to explain the situation, but the troll got the better of her.

"Oh hey, baby. I haven't seen you in a while. How's the anorexia going?" Poor Iris began to tear up, being quite sensitive to how slim she was. "Seriously," the troll went on, "why don't you eat something? I guess you'd probably bloat up if you did, though, right?" He puffed out his cheeks and waddled around, cackling madly at his own remarks.

"I-I'm not that thin, am I, Mr. Edgeworth?" Iris pleaded, and Edgeworth guided her away, patting her hand and assuring her that she was of a thoroughly healthy size and shape.

"Oh yeah, keep an eye on her, you fruit! Otherwise she might go throw up!" was the troll's final jeer as the two walked away. He then returned to his crevice beneath the bridge, ever so pleased with himself.

…

"Hurry up, Mr. Phoenix Wright!" Franziska hollered, whipping him from halfway across the bridge.

_Oh please, not again, _he mentally begged. He felt his eyesight fading before him. However, an all-too familiar voice brought him back to consciousness.

"Well look who's back!" the troll voice cried. "I thought-" He was interrupted by the crack of a whip, courtesy of the approaching Franziska von Karma.

"What do you think you're doing, you fool? Keep walking!" she said to Phoenix, threatening him with her whip yet again.

"Whoa whoa, who's this?" the troll catcalled. "That's an awfully short skirt, sweetheart. Mind if I take a peek?" The troll crawled up and grabbed her ankle, causing her to jerk about furiously.

"What is this horrible monstrosity? Release me, cretin!" she screamed, but the troll clung on. Not until she flicked her whip in his direction did the creature let go, but it at last whimpered and retreated.

"She's feisty. I'm not sure I like that, girly," he persisted. Franziska, whip at the ready, changed her murderous glare to a condescending smirk and shook a finger at the troll.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones…"she began to recite, but the troll cut her off.

"'—But whips and chains excite me.' Is that what you were thinking, hottie?" it said, and the bloodthirsty hatred returned to her eyes. She grabbed Phoenix, who had been sitting in a pitiful heap at the beginning of the bridge, by the scruff of the neck and dragged him to the temple on the other side.

The troll laughed until he choked, and then continued laughing. He had never had such fun before, and he'd be truly sorry when all these people were gone again.

…

"Mr. Godot, I-"

The criminal shook his head. "Call me Armando, Wright. That is my name."

Phoenix looked concernedly at the other man. "I'm sorry it had to end like this, Mr. Armando. I truly am."

"Ha! It's as it should be. I killed and should be imprisoned. The law is black and merciless…just like this coffee." The inmate took a long swig from a mug which had suddenly materialized in his hand. Phoenix decided not to ask.

"Just…do me one last favor, amigo," Godot turned to the attorney. "Get these officers to let me take a short trip back to that bridge. I've got some unfinished business to attend to."

Despite it being extremely illegal, Phoenix managed to convince the police to allow the convict a last visit to Dusky Bridge (after all, he had two very threatening prosecutors on his side). Soon a group of those involved was returning to the forsaken area where all the tragedies of the past few days had occurred.

They all approached the bridge solemnly, Godot and Phoenix ahead of the crowd. A shrill cry of excitement rang out by the time they had reached the rotting sign.

"Oh, boys and girls, you all came back to see me? And bearing gifts, too! Why, a tattered old hobo as a human sacrifice, you shouldn't have!" There was a muffled cry of, "Hey, pal, I'm no hobo!" from the back of the group, but it was soon silenced by the crack of a whip.

Godot sauntered closer to the sound of the troll's voice, and gestured for it to come out of hiding. It did so without a second thought.

"It's the masked grandpa! To what do I owe the pleasure?" it said, bowing. "I thought they just locked you away for cutting some lady up."

Without warning, or even a sound, Godot rose to his full height and stuck a hand in his pocket. From it, he pulled out a high caliber pistol—like his coffee, also seeming to materialize from nowhere—and aimed, point-blank, at the satanic troll's head. Its eyes widened, and before it had the chance to move or speak, he pulled the trigger.

_BAM!_

The troll toppled off the bridge, and there was a quiet splash as it landed in the roaring river forty feet below. Everything was silent.

"…he said my hair looked like it belonged in a senile old man's ear. No one says that to me and lives."

Godot soon felt multiple hands patting his back followed by murmurs of encouragement, and both Maya and Franziska wrapped their arms around him in a grateful embrace. Phoenix walked over to his side and placed a supportive hand on the dual-murderer's shoulder.

"You did what was best, for everyone. It had to be done." The attorney was choked up. "God knows it had to have been done."

…**And there we have it. The moral of the story? Don't be a troll, and Godot is as smokin' hot as the coffee he drinks. Oh, and if you would like an image to go along with said story, try this one: http:/media. tumblr. com/tumblr_ lnnckcoz771 qik (remove the spaces). I do hope you found some enjoyment in reading. Writing it was probably more fun for me than it should have been. Review and you'll have yourself a nice reward of salty noodles, on me! :D**


	2. Fun in the Sun

**Well, this started as a one-shot, but I decided to go ahead and make it a series of random fandom. They may as well stick together! The idea for this one came to me last summer when my aunt was all panicked about jellyfish in the sea. So I thought, "Hmm, how can I torture my Ace Attorney darlings with this?" Et voilà! **

"SWIMMING!" shouted Chief of Police Damon Gant as he plunged into the water. The idea for a corporate beach party had come to him in a sudden moment of genius, and he wouldn't rest until his dream became reality. His coworkers hadn't seen him this jubilant since their Christmas party; of course, he had been pretty intoxicated at the time.

Miles Edgeworth took a seat on the nearest shady chaise, not wanting to draw unneeded attention to himself. Normally he wouldn't be caught dead at an office gathering like this—especially one where modesty is, um, lacking—but since Gant had made it mandatory for all members of Criminal Affairs and the D.A.'s office to attend, he hadn't had much of a choice. He heard an exasperated sigh from behind him, and turned to see one Lana Skye, watching the Chief making a fool of himself while all the people in the ocean near him cowered in fear. She shot Miles a small smile.

"Mr. Edgeworth, I'm not sure jeans and a dress shirt can be considered beach apparel," she said to him skeptically. "Although, I do appreciate you not wearing your suit." She herself was dressed in a modest red swimsuit and brown cover-up over it, similar in colours to her normal clothes.

The man hid his face behind his designer sunglasses. "I have no intention of making a spectacle of myself in the water, Ms. Skye. I'll merely be sitting here until I'm permitted to leave." With that, he pulled out a large chapter book from his bag and began reading in silence.

"Very well, Miles, I suppose I'll go and brave it myself," Lana said, and ventured down to the water.

The somber prosecutor had managed to avoid conversations with most of his office mates so far, and it soon occurred to him that it was getting rather hot. He set his book down and peeked out from under his umbrella.

_The sun does seem to be intensifying, _he thought to himself. Suddenly, he heard a voice call out to him, and his blood froze.

"Edgeeyyy!" it sang, and before long the figure of Larry Butz was standing there before him. From what he could gather, Phoenix Wright and Maya were not far behind. Miles facepalmed.

"What are you _doing _here?" he muttered when the attorney and his assistant finally reached them, the former panting heavily after the walk.

"What, Edgeworth, is this a private beach?" Phoenix smirked at him. "It's a hot day, and Larry convinced us to take a trip to the beach." As if on cue, Maya slapped Phoenix on the back and bolted down to the water.

"Last one in's a rotten egg, Niiiiiick!" she screeched. Phoenix gave Edgeworth a sheepish smile as he scratched the back of his head.

"I guess we'll leave you to your reading, then. See ya, Edgeworth," he said, dragging Larry along as he hurried after Maya. The prosecutor had already returned to his novel, but gave a small nod in response.

The man had finally returned to his solitude, and he felt almost at peace. Not for long, however. Someone or something out there had it out for Miles; it was probably von Karma.

"Worthy, my boy! Why aren't you swimming?" Miles braced himself as he felt Chief Gant clap him loudly on the shoulder, his sopping wet hand ruining Miles' burgundy shirt.

"Ah, sir, I'm afraid I find myself lacking proper swim attire. Unfortunately, I've been sitting here for a majority of the day," he said rather sarcastically, not looking up from the pages of his book.

"Nonsense, Worthy, you should have just told me! I'll have this problem remedied in no time!" Before Edgeworth had a chance to object, there was a pair of swim trunks thrown into his face, and Gant was ushering him toward the changing room.

"I always keep a spare pair with me, Worthy, for this exact reason. Now go on and change! I'll be right here."

"Really, sir, I, uh…" Gant's stare was so fierce that not even Edgeworth could best it, and so, defeated, he was forced to change into the cursed swimsuit.

"Excellent, Worthy! Really great!" Gant applauded. Edgeworth put his clothes into his bag and scowled as Gant pushed him down to the water.

"Hey, Mr. Edgeworth, sir!—"

"One more word, Gumshoe, and you can consider next month's salary nonexistent," Edgeworth glared.

For someone who wasn't very athletic, Miles was quite toned, and all the female officers that turned to stare just made the whole situation vastly more uncomfortable. (Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he really did inspire that sort of frothing desire in the female masses.)

Once he was waist-deep in the water, he refused to go any further. Gant eventually gave up and returned to his own swimming escapades. When it appeared safe enough, Miles began to make his way back to dry land, but not before he was interrupted by his childhood "friends".

"Whoa, Larry, put it down! That's dangerous!" Phoenix cried as he chased after his friend, but Larry continued running in Edgeworth's direction. Miles squinted to see what Larry was holding, but only saw a stick.

Before Edgeworth could utter a cynical and witty comment about his friend, Larry crashed directly into him, both of them toppling to the ground, and the slimy entity Larry had been carrying on his stick fell onto Edgeworth.

Fear struck Larry suddenly when he realized what he had done. "Sorry, Edgey! I'm really sorry—"

"Arrgh!" Miles cut him off. There was a jellyfish wrapped menacingly around his calf and foot. He tried to pull it off, but it stung his fingers.

A group of people soon surrounded him, and he heard Lana among them: "That doesn't look good, Miles. We'll need to get you to a doctor." He said nothing, thoroughly peeved at how the day was turning out. His mentor came over to assist him in standing, but she and the rest of the crowd were shoved away by an individual.

"Out of the way, everyone! I know what to do!" Miles seethed when he saw Larry returning to the scene, a determined look in his eye.

"I saw this on Man Vs. Wild!" he shouted. There was a universal gasp, and without further ado he lowered his swim trunks and proceeded to urinate on Miles' leg.

"Larry! What the hell do you think you're doing!" Miles hollered.

"Relax, Edgey. This'll fix that burn right up!" Poor Edgeworth groaned, more out of anger and humiliation than out of pain. When he saw Larry wink at a female detective, he forced himself into a standing position and smacked Larry right across the face. Lana then helped steady Miles as a group went to fetch medical assistance.

…

It had been a disturbing day for Miles, more so than usual, and he was finally home. The poor man was sitting in the fetal position on the floor of his shower, fully-clothed (a vulnerable situation that most fangirls would be eager to share with him), allowing the water to fall on and around him. His recently bandaged leg was hanging out of the shower stall, and every time he looked at it he felt the bile rise in his throat. He hadn't even been able to touch his own limb since Larry had violated him in such a way that afternoon, and it still made him sick to think about. He wrapped his arms tighter around his knee, shuddering violently.

"Oh, God," he mumbled to himself. "I shall never feel clean again."

**Oh Miles, how I love you. I only torment him out of adoration, I promise. So, thoughts? Suggestions? Any idea as to what Edgeworth was reading? Tell me, I want to know! Remember, I'm like a robot and subscriptions and reviews are my batteries. Without them, I die. :3**


	3. Sassy Gay Friend

**Found this prompt on Kink Meme; it had already been filled for Daryan, but I seriously couldn't help doing my own version. If you haven't watched the Sassy Gay Friend videos on YouTube, then you HAVE to immediately, because they're hilarious. And this totally won't be funny if you haven't seen the original. Enjoy!**

**-x-x-x-**

Meet Kristoph Gavin, defense attorney. He is about to request a piece of forged evidence for a trial that will inevitably lead to his downfall, as well as the ruin of no less than five people's lives. This fate could have been avoided _if _he had a sassy gay friend.

The door burst open. "OBJECTION! What are you doing! What, what, what are you doing?"

~_cue Sassy Gay Friend's theme tune_~

"J-Justice? What are you doing here?"

Apollo flung his fashionable salmon-coloured scarf over his shoulder. "Put down that calligraphy pen and wipe that evil smirk off your face, Gavin! No forgery for you today!"

"I have no idea what you're—hey! That letter is important; don't you dare tear it up—"

"Since when does Kristoph Gavin, the Coolest Defense Attorney in the West, have to rely on fake evidence? It's almost as bad as that needle-shaped hair extension you have hanging from your head—oh, don't think I didn't notice! A Blue Badger would know it's fake!"

Kristoph touched his hair defensively. "It's merely a precaution. I fully intend to win this trial, but if there's a problem—"

"Now is not the time to feel insecure, Kristoph. You've gotta believe in yourself! If you go through with this," Apollo held up the remains of the letter sassily, "Then you can bet your sweet tush that you'll end up in prison. Do you know what they do to pretty boys like you there, Kristoph? I'll give you a hint: it looks a little like your brother's friend's phallic haircut, and afterwards you're going to have to change your title to 'Arsh Attorney.' You're German, you know what I mean."

Kristoph made a face of disgust.

"That's right, sugar! So drop the atroquinine and stick with the Ariadoney nail polish; evil plotting causes wrinkles."

The defense attorney rose to his full height and stood in front of Apollo. "People already think I'm the Devil. Why not complete the image?"

"Tut tut, drop the self-pity gimmick, Gavin! If anything, it's because of those God-awful glasses you wear. Honestly, you have such nice eyes; it's okay to flaunt them! Let's dump these satanic things—" Apollo took the glasses off the man's face and tossed them aside, "—and let's go get you a pretty pair of RayBans!"

"Well…alright. Why not?"

"That's my boy! Here, you're going to need this—" Out of nowhere, Apollo pulled out another scarf identical to his own and threw it nonchalantly around Kristoph's neck.

"Uh! It's perfect. I always knew you were an autumn. Now get out of here, you stupid bitch!" Apollo said sassily, smacking Kristoph on the rear as he ushered him out of the room.

Apollo turned abruptly to face the camera (er, or the other wall) and rolled his eyes, laughing to himself. "He's such a stupid bitch. Ha!"

**-x-x-x-**

**:3 I apologize for any trauma that may have caused. Apollo as Kristoph's sassy gay friend is a mental image that will forever make me cackle like a maniac. For those of you who are unaware, arsch is German for ass. *raises eyebrows suggestively* So **_**now**_** you have to know what that joke means. Anyway, reviews are food for the soul! And how can I keep writing without a soul?**


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